Chapter 5
The middle-aged man yelled in rage, making people stop and stare.
"Do you even know how much this shirt costs? Someone like you could work your whole life and still never pay for it," he shouted.
Shards of glass pierced Elodie's palm as she kept backing away. "I'm sorry, I..."
"Oh my god, isn't that Elodie?" someone said in shock.
"The Dawson Group heiress? How did she end up working as a waitress?" another echoed.
Whispers surged through the crowd like a tidal wave.
Elodie felt a thousand eyes prickling her back like needles. The same people who used to greet her with such warmth were now staring at her like she was some kind of sideshow attraction.
"I heard that after her dad jumped off the building, all their assets were seized," someone said.
"Serves her right, ending up like this," another chimed in.
"She used to act all high and mighty. Now look at her, serving us drinks." Another guy sneered.
Elodie crouched on the floor, picking up shards of glass, her vision swimming with tears.
Her fingers brushed against a sharp piece of glass, wishing she could vanish into thin air.
Just then, the gentle scent of gardenia wafted through the air, and a soft hand gently wrapped around her wrist.
"Mr. Sterling, it's just a shirt. Why pick on her over something so small?" someone said.
Elodie looked up and met a pair of warm, smiling almond eyes. It was the woman who had been with Sidney earlier.
"Ms. True," Ned said.
His attitude instantly turned respectful.
He said, "Why would you bother yourself with something so trivial?"
Mabel said to Elodie, "Are you okay? Your hand is bleeding."
Elodie stayed silent because at that moment, she suddenly remembered why the name "True" felt so familiar.
True Group was the first so-called partner to pull their money out, triggering Dawson Group's financial collapse. The last call her father ever answered before he jumped was from Murray True himself.
And the gentle, soft-spoken Mabel standing before Elodie was the only daughter of Murray.
"This young lady isn't feeling well," Mabel said to Sidney. Her fingers were still gently resting on Elodie's wrist.
Sidney had been silent the whole time.
"I'd like to take her to the lounge," Mabel added.
Sidney finally looked at Elodie.
His gaze was chillingly unfamiliar, as if he was looking at a complete stranger.
"Suit yourself," he said coolly.
Sidney reached out, making a show of brushing away an imaginary strand of hair from Mabel's shoulder.
"Don't take too long. The ceremony's about to start," he added.
The lounge door closed behind them, shutting out the noise from the banquet hall.
Elodie sat on the leather sofa, staring at her bloodstained palm.
Shards of glass were still embedded in her skin, but the pain seemed dulled by something sharper, an ache that cut deeper than any physical wound.
Sidney leaned against the doorframe, checking his watch. The hallway lights stretched his silhouette long, but he never once glanced her way.
When the tip of the tweezers brushed her wound, Elodie jerked her hand back on reflex.
"Did I hurt you?" Mabel asked.
She immediately loosened her grip, her gaze full of apologies.
"I'll be gentler," she promised softly.
Elodie shook her head.
What was this pain anyway? It paled in comparison to the agony she had felt when her knee banged against the steps as she was thrown out of the house overnight after her father died.
It also paled in comparison to the misery of her fingers freezing stiff as she clung to her mother's body until dawn the night her mother slit her wrists.
"Thank you, Ms. True," Elodie said softly.
After Mabel finished putting on the last band-aid, she suddenly turned toward the door.
"Sidney, how can you be so clueless? You didn't even come over to check on Ms. Dawson," she pouted, her voice lingering sweetly at the end.
Only then did Sidney glance up, his eyes skimming over Elodie like she was barely there. But the moment his eyes landed on Mabel, all the coldness melted away, turning soft and doting.
"Anything for you," he replied, his tone gentle.
Sidney walked over and placed a tender kiss on the crown of Mabel's head.
Those words felt like a blunt knife twisting in Elodie's chest.
Five years ago, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows in her apartment, Sidney had held her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder and whispering, "Elodie, I'll always listen to you."
Elodie's fingertips started twitching out of control.
It was the warning sign of an attack. Her fingers would go first, then her whole body, and in the end, even swallowing would get hard.
Elodie shoved her hands under the table in a panic, but Mabel suddenly gasped and grabbed her trembling fingers in both hands.
"Ms. Dawson, what's wrong with your hands?" Mabel asked.
Sidney's eyes finally settled on her shaking hands.
Elodie tried to pull her hands away, but Mabel's grip only tightened, refusing to let go.
"It seems Ms. Dawson and I really have a special connection," Mabel said with a gentle smile.